


Hymn of Acxiom

by Skye_Fury



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye_Fury/pseuds/Skye_Fury
Summary: Somebody hears you. you know that. you know that.Somebody hears you. you know that inside.Someone is learning the colors of all your moods, to(say just the right thing and) show that you’re understood.Here you’re known.Leave your life open. you don’t have. you don’t have.Leave your life open. you don’t have to hide.Someone is gathering every crumb you drop, these(mindless decisions and) moments you long forgot.Keep them all.





	

He smiled a lot; even on the days where he couldn’t smile for himself, Minhyuk knew he had to smile for his friends. They were always going to need him, so what’s the use in showing how sad he was? 

 

It was hard to be radiant or to feel like the so-called “visual” of this little boy group he belonged to when he was next to people like Hyungwon or Hoseok who he knew fans were head over heels for. He smiled, he laughed, he jumped up and down… it was draining him so much, but he was going to get up and do it all again for his friends and his fans. 

 

“Minhyukkie,” Hoseok would sigh as he placed his head on Minhyuk’s thighs while they sat on his bed in the dorm, “I don’t think anyone likes me.” 

 

“But I do?” The brunette questioned. 

 

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who cares,” He sighed again, “How do you manage to be so positive?”

 

_ I fake it until I feel like hurting or killing myself, but that’s fine as long as you guys are okay. I matter way less than you do. _

 

“I just think about all the good things in life,” Minhyuk forced a smile, “And all the good things about you guys! It keeps me very motivated.”    
  


“Do you ever have time for yourself, Minhyuk?” 

 

_ Why would I need it when I literally don’t matter to anyone? _

 

“Yeah! I have plenty!” 

 

Hoseok didn’t ask anymore questions after that; he’d smile and curl more into Minhyuk’s body warmth and fall asleep while the boy fought any urge he had to let his tears fall and alarm the man who trusted him wholeheartedly. 

 

Sometimes Minhyuk knew he didn’t matter to his friends either, especially when they got drunk and aroused. 

 

He was never one for drinking, so he was the sober friend; the designated driver. Minhyuk would deliver each of them home and help them to bed when they were too intoxicated to walk, but sometimes he wasn’t lucky enough to have them just comply with him and get in bed; sometimes they just had to latch onto him and kiss him, leave marks, make him feel good even though he didn’t feel good. 

 

A particular night with Hyunwoo was all Minhyuk needed to crush his entire existence. Everything hurt and no matter how much he yelled and cried, the man who smothered him was drunk and couldn’t hear him past the filter the liquor had created that turned his cries and sobs into moans and aroused whines. 

 

Minhyuk didn’t leave his apartment for a few days afterward, but he convinced his friends it was because he was sick; no one ever remembered what they did.

 

He quit trying to defend himself after all of that, but that soon turned into him avoiding any bar trips altogether by making excuses and sending them taxis when they needed to get home. 

 

Maybe that’s when he started looking at himself in the mirror and picking out all the fat he had on him, the dark circles, the acne, the scars he didn’t cause and how he needed to get rid of them. He didn’t eat for weeks, even though he was dizzy, nauseous, and stumbling through fan meets and dance practices. The manager would scold him, members would scold him, everyone had something against him, but he’d smile and nod while forcing the tears to stay tucked away.

 

When he got home—instead of going out with the rest of his friends—he’d turn the shower on, blast one of the many albums he barely had any lines in, cry, and he’d let a knife or some sort of blade tear into his thighs and cut those sweet lashes of pain into him so it dulled out everything else. 

 

He liked feeling his scars rub against his pants, it made him feel like he was there; like he was real. When he was scolded, he could dig his nails into his thighs and feel the heat of pain that tore at his nerves. 

 

Minhyuk could look in the mirror and see the obvious changes—how his face sank and his body leaned made him feel like he was losing weight—but nothing was good enough. He told himself time and time again that he could be a little thinner, a little prettier. 

 

“Something about me can always be better.” 

 

He was tearing himself up and little by little, people were taking notice. 

 

“Minhyuk,” Kihyun would hum over lunch while staring at the small cup of water that sat in front of his friend, “Are you going to eat?” 

 

“Oh, no, not right now. I’m dieting and I ate a big breakfast this morning.” He’d lie. 

 

Kihyun arched an eyebrow and recalled that the seven of them, despite not being on a schedule, hadn’t had much of a breakfast this morning and how Minhyuk hadn’t eaten a damn thing. 

 

“Lee Minhyuk. Why are you spouting complete and utter bullshit to me?” Kihyun hissed.

 

Minhyuk dug into his thighs again, “Oh, I might be thinking of another day. I’m just not hungry right now, okay?” 

 

_ Kihyun’s mad at me.  _

 

The vocalist in front of him shoved a bowl of food toward him and told him to eat it. Minhyuk could only think of all the weight he’d lost and how much this one little bowl of food was going to deter his weight loss, “I’m alright.” Kihyun still urged. 

 

Minhyuk felt pressured as he reached for the bowl and scarfed the food down as fast as he could, swallowing it painfully before running to the bathroom to throw it up. He couldn’t hold it down. 

 

Kihyun was texting when Minhyuk came back, but he put his phone down as soon as his friend slid into the seat, “What was that?” 

 

“I got sick.” 

 

_ I didn’t swallow correctly so I could throw up and keep myself thin.  _

 

Another instance with Changkyun had him shaking and scared, pressed into the younger boy and close to sobs. The younger had noticed Minhyuk was smiling less with each day that lapsed on and it made him worry. 

 

“Minhyuk, people on twitter said you looked kinda sad in that selca you posted yesterday. Isn’t that weird?” Changkyun hummed, suggesting that Minhyuk could talk to him through the tone of his voice.

 

“Oh, that’s silly,” Minhyuk hummed in response. 

 

Changkyun waited for a worried glance or for Minhyuk to pull his phone out and take a picture of him and Changkyun smiling big and wide, but he didn’t. He didn’t move from his spot on the couch where his eyes stared at the TV, but look at nothing. He was on autopilot, it seemed, and digging his nails into his thighs.

 

Minhyuk was thinking about death in terms of how fast it would be, how it would happen, who would see it, and how many people wouldn’t care. He wasn’t scared of death, he welcomed it and wanted it to take his as fast as it could. 

 

“Minhyuk.” 

 

Maybe he’d get hit by a car? It was entirely possible if he’d stumbled out the wrong side of their van at a fan meeting or something. He’d be able to feel and hear his bones crunch and maybe he could see the earth tumble about before he was gone. 

 

“Minhyuk?”

 

He could just hang himself with bed sheets or some rope he could probably snag from the company’s prop room. All he had to do was find some tree in a park and kick the bucket, it was pretty fast. 

 

“Lee Minhyuk!” 

 

He snapped out of it in an instant and looked at Changkyun with wild, tired eyes that searched for something to return words to. Said words hung on his tongue and he thought about anyway to carry on the conversation he hadn’t been partaking in, but he was suddenly enveloped in warmth.

 

Changkyun held him tight and shushed him before he could utter a word, “You know, I’ve been around you so long that I’ve learned the colors of your moods. You try and hide your red and blue beneath all of that yellow, but I know better than that.” 

Tears threatened to slide onto his cheeks and to stain the white sleeve of Changkyun’s shirt, “What the heck are you talking about, Changkyunnie?  **I’m fine** .”

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

Minhyuk would lie again and again to the young rapper despite his poetic description of the troubling moods and feelings he endured. Nothing about him was going to keep them from being happy; it’s his job to make them smile. 

 

On one particular night, during one particular thought, in the midst of one particular walk through the crisp air a car drove through the city. Minhyuk walked dully through the city, looking at the buildings and their lights while that car still hovered through the streets on it’s way to the driver’s choice destination. 

 

Minhyuk turned his head and saw the headlights, he felt the scars on his legs through the shorts he wore that night. His breathing became shallow as the car got closer and closer; it sped through the night trying to achieve it’s goal and everything was suddenly a flurry of fear and adrenaline and-

 

A loud smack.

 

The screeching tires. 

 

A flying body. 

 

A man yelling from the window of the car.

 

No more headlights. 

 

He’d jumped in front of the car as soon as it was in close proximity; he smiled through it all, tears streaming down his face and muttering “I’m sorry, I couldn’t handle it” over and over again. Everything hurt and Minhyuk was glad it did, eyes rolling back into the dark of death that was slightly interrupted by the flashing of red and blue lights...

 

Minhyuk woke up. 

 

He… woke up? 

 

“Wha,” He looked around and blinked his eyes slowly in order to adjust them to the bright lights above him. 

 

His arm was in a cast, held close to his chest and his head laid back on two or three pillows. Everything was cold and white, it unnerved Minhyuk. 

 

In the flash of a second he began thrashing around in the bed he laid in, trying to pull off bandages and remove the IV from his arm. Minhyuk yelled and cried, “I should be dead! I want to be dead! I shouldn’t be here!” 

 

Nurses and doctors flooded into his room, yelling lyrical melodies of medical words that Minhyuk didn’t understand. They held him down, the IV was back, and he was getting sleepy. Resilience stopped and the world just slowed down. 

 

_ I’m supposed to be dead.  _

 

A couple hours later, Jooheon showed up carrying a soft bear with white fur a bright pink bow. His eyes looked at Minhyuk and observed the boy’s pale skin, bruises, cuts, and all things of the sort. He knew very little aside from his friend was on meal and suicide watch, sedated amongst other things. The rapper moistened his lips and set the bear on the bed next to the sickly presented male, a sad smile gracing his features while he looked down upon the bedridden boy. 

 

“Hey, Minhyukkie,” He choked out, hands busying themselves, “How are you feeling?”

 

Minhyuk looked up, his mouth hanging open and body moving like an old, unoiled machine. His dull eyes looked around, sliding across Jooheon’s face with a quiet and dead action. 

 

“Uhm,” He rubbed the edges of his jacket sleeves between his thumb and index fingers nervously, “We got the call about the accident… We were worried that you-” 

 

“It  _ wasn’t _ an accident.” 

 

Jooheon coughed, “Well, when we heard about the accid-”

 

“It. Wasn’t. An. Accident.” Minhyuk snapped each word with a heavy anger, “I wanted to die.” 

 

Tears threatened Jooheon’s eyes; he shook his head as hard as he could muster and licked his lips once more. 

 

The other five Monsta X members poured into the hospital room bringing gifts and with every gift and every man in the room, there was more terror for Minhyuk. Something inside him was building up—the drugs circulating in his body kept him from acting upon any inkling of a feeling—inside him. His heart beat rapidly and Hoseok spoke to Hyungwon, Kihyun sang a couple notes to Hyunwoo, and Jooheon talked quietly to Changkyun. It bothered him. 

 

“What the fuck do you people want?” Minhyuk cusses, scratching his thighs through the heavy white blanket that crushed him beneath it. 

 

There was a silence that weighed down the entire room upon hearing the word ‘fuck’ slide out of Minhyuk’s mouth. He never cussed like that—maybe a small “dammit” here and there, but never anything like that. 

 

“We,” Hyungwon shifted his weight to the other leg, “We came here to make sure you were okay.” 

 

Minhyuk raised an eyebrow, “Oh, you didn’t come here to get drunk and have your way with me again?” 

 

Another moment of silence, eyebrows now raised in question, “What?” Hyungwon asked. 

 

Minhyuk started laughing and shifted on the bed, tears yanking themselves out of his eyes, “You enjoyed getting drunk off your asses, huh? You also like screwing me into your fucking mattress too, huh!?” 

 

Hyunwoo stepped forward and grabbed Minhyuk’s shoulders to hold him down, “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep moving around like that.” 

 

“Let me go! Let go of me! Get off!” He yelled, tears escaping quickly and breathing uneven, “Don’t touch me! You did this last time! I thought it a friendly gesture, but you- You- You…” 

 

Minhyuk’s breathing became heavy as he writhed all about his bed, begging Hyunwoo to release him from the grip on his shoulders. He was processing this information before saying: “Minhyuk, I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

 

“You recorded it.” 

 

Hyunwoo’s brows furrowed as Minhyuk explained that the intoxicated man had recorded the entire thing on his laptop webcam. He was unnerved and uncomfortably gripping the edge of the hospital bed. Nothing seemed right in that moment as he looked at the boy strapped up to various machinery and breathing slowly; he could’ve died and no one would’ve known .

 

“I’m sorry that happened.” 

 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it anymore,” Minhyuk snapped, his face twisted into pain and anger, “I took your apologies every time you were sad or scared while I was left behind.” 

 

The entirety of Monsta X was shivering in that room; one shivering from pain and the other six shivering from the fear and guilt that coursed through them disgustingly. 

 

“I just want to die,” He sobbed, “I wish I was dead. How the hell did I even get here?” 

 

The doctor waltzed in, parting the group to stand in front of the white hospital bed, “To answer your first question, a closing shop owner witnessed the crash and called 119 almost immediately.” 

 

“Well, fuck him.” Minhyuk hissed. 

 

“Lee Minhyuk, if you ever spout those words about someone who saved your life again, I swear to god I will personally kill you.” Kihyun snapped from the corner of the room. 

 

The brown haired boy turned his head and looked dead at Kihyun, eyes tired and raging: “Fuck. Him.” 

 

Kihyun growled, but one look from Hyunwoo highlighted the severity of Minhyuk’s poor reasoning. The male with pink hair took a deep breath and held onto the tears that threatened to attack him, “I hope you come around to thanking him.”

 

“I hope you come around to realizing how lucky you are,” Minhyuk bit back, “Mr. I get every vocal line known to man.” 

 

Another sharp hitch of his breath and a red, hand shaped imprint on his cheek made Minhyuk quiet down instantly. Changkyun had slapped him, the younger boy’s hand was still positioned in the finishing moment of the strike. 

 

“Red.” Changkyun murmured. 

 

_ Someone is learning the colors of all your moods… _

 

After the moment of disbelief had ended, the doctor spoke up, “We will be keeping Mr. Lee with us for a week. We will make sure he is happy, healthy, and well-fed upon release. I have asked your manager to cancel or postpone any small schedules for visitation time.” 

 

The other six complied with the doctor's words and exchanged small questions, bows, and a sad goodbye. They left him there, strapped to the machines, for his health. That’s what the doctor said, it was all for his health…

 

About a week later, Minhyuk was released. 

 

His skin was still pale, albeit healthier looking aside from his still sunken face. He wobbled a little when he moved too slowly, but when he exited the hospital to a big group of Starship Ent.’s staff as well as the entirety of Monsta X and Sistar he moved just a bit faster. 

 

They greeted him the flowers and open arms, promises of betterment for his health, and every care in the world as long as he promised to talk to them when he needed it. He also swore to be diligent in taking his antidepressants and any other prescribed medications to help him next to all the coping skills he’d been given. 

 

The manager offered to pay for lunch that day and everyone complied cheerily while they got into the two vans driven to carry them all; it was a nice lunch, with happy tears and all.  

 

Things continued to be happy for a while. Minhyuk took his meds, he ate, he talked to people. The group released new albums and he got a few more lines and Kihyun would apologize for taking up the majority, but the brunette couldn’t let him go on feeling guilty for the words he has snapped out a week ago. 

 

They also apologized for the unwanted sexual contact on nights where they drank; they apologized by drinking less and less each month. Hyunwoo took himself and Minhyuk to support groups and bought him little pastries once in awhile as a sweet little gift.

 

Everything was fine. 

 

It was good. 

 

Minhyuk was happy.

 

Crying in the bathroom, white knuckling a bottle of sertraline while a loud song about being someone’s hero or whatever was blasting in the bathroom. The booming sound of knocks on the door and worried yells collided with the music, not distracting the boy on the floor from the orange bottle in his hands. 

 

He shook the pills around, his head lolling, “I’m so unhappy… It’s artificial. My feelings are fake, lies even…” He whispered.

 

He poured the contents into a cupped hand and sniffled, dropping the vacant bottle to wipe his nose. Twenty-six little pills in his hand, shaking with his body while he lifted the hand to his mouth and downed the pills in one quick motion. 

 

He turned the music off and hid the pill bottle quickly; Minhyuk could now hear the banging on the doors. He wiped his eyes off and opened the door to all of Monsta X piling in on top of him. 

 

“What did you do? Why are you in here? Why was the door locked?” Jooheon asked in a panic. 

 

“I took my pills and peed?” Minhyuk lied, partially, “Can we go get breakfast now or?”

 

They eyed him, refusing to note his puffy red eyes in place of the falsity he put in place of his feelings. 

 

Only one man, Lee Jooheon, noticed the flash of orange beneath the hand towel on the counter and thought of the dangers when he saw the emptiness of it. His eyes shifted to the door right after hearing a thunk in the hall and panicked yelling. 

 

He darted into the hall to see five men struggling to get Minhyuk up, calling for him as he vomited and cried. There was yelling for him to sit up, asking him what was wrong, telling him it was going to be okay and that they were going to call for an ambulance. 

 

Through all the struggle and the phone’s loud dialing, Minhyuk seized in Hyunwoo’s arms. The man gripped him tightly, unsure of what to do in the situation aside from wiping the vomit and saliva from the boy’s mouth. 

 

Kihyun darted into the hall with EMT’s following close behind in a professionalized panic. They asked the six who were shaking with an intensified fear of death about the past happenings. None of them could answer except for the dark haired man standing by the bathroom door way. 

 

“He overdosed,” Jooheon told the group, “I saw the pill bottle under a towel.” 

 

There was a moment of silence before one of the EMT’s called for a stretcher through the radio on his shoulder. A loud, static voice called 10-4 and, at a moments notice, they had the limp boy on a stretcher and out the door. Hyunwoo told the rest of the group to alert their manager about the issue as he darted after them to jump into the ambulance and ride to the hospital. 

 

Everything was rushing past Hyunwoo as he only focused on the boy zoning in and out of the state of consciousness. He continued to wish for Minhyuk’s life to continue, praying to gods he didn’t know existed. Everything was focused on Minhyuk, poor little Minhyuk, whose time was running out. 

 

Busting into the ER and pulling into a room where nurses and doctors rushed to the seizing boy, yelling for this and that but Hyunwoo could only hear Minhyuk’s laughter, his voice, anything that he could hold on to as the boy was losing his life. The other five members barreled into the room, not daring to raise their voice above a whisper as they listened to the beep of the heart monitor. 

 

They heard the doctor call for something and a nurse yell about the on and off seizures Minhyuk experienced. They felt the fear rattling their bones; they were about to lose the one member who really tried to show how much he cared for them. 

 

Then, the flat line sound screamed achingly through the room. Wide eyes gazed helplessly, full of tears at the medical officials who all stopped moving. 

 

“Call it,” one man said. 

  
“Time of death, 9:45 AM on the 23rd day of February, 2017.” 


End file.
